


Stay with me

by Phanseyelash123



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gay, Gore, M/M, Nightmares, Oneshot, Reddie, Sad, closeted richie, no it 2 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 15:33:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20837864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phanseyelash123/pseuds/Phanseyelash123
Summary: He hated this feeling he had.His feelings for a boy.A boy who was his best friend.Eddie.-~-Or closeted Richie deals with his own nightmares of Eddie being dead.NO IT 2 SPOILERS.





	Stay with me

Blood. 

Thick, lush-red, blood. 

Richie felt his legs go weak. 

He had always hated blood. 

He had always hated red. 

He hated red balloons. 

Red balloons. Red balloons. In the shape of a triangle, the beast that would travel under them and grin at him with teeth that were so unnatural he shuddered thinking of it. 

He hated this feeling he had. 

His feelings for a boy. 

A boy who was his best friend. 

Eddie. 

Richie fell to his knees and clutched the cute shorts Eddie wore, his hands now smothered with the hot liquid he fucking despised. He hated this. He hated the feeling of dread, the feeling of pain, the feeling of heartbreak, the feeling of exhaustion. The feeling of love. 

The feeling of fear. 

Bile traveled to his throat and he was gasping all of a sudden, big tears dripping from his eyes, and those eyes locked with Eddie’s. Lifeless. Everything was a blur. His glasses were cracked. 

Eddie was dead. 

Richie sniffled, now pulling Eddie into his chest and crying harder, into his neck, breath heavy and he felt so tired and so done. 

“Eddie, no, no...” he found himself murmuring. How long was he whispering that? 

Their clothes were both muddied with the colour he loathed, and with each growing second, Richie felt a presence behind him. He glanced back. It was It. 

The fucking murderer. 

He thought he was supposed to feel afraid, but really, all he felt was anger- searing, burning rage that controlled him. He leapt toward It, who laughed with excitement and Richie sobbed loudly. 

“You motherfucker! How fucking dare you!” He screamed and punched at his face, and then It transformed. 

It was Eddie. 

Richie fell back, onto the floor again, which creaked and screamed with all the weight. 

“Jesus, Richie, it’s awful in here. You’re gonna get sick, you know that, right? And then I’m gonna get sick, and then my mom will literally fucking—“ Eddie was panicking, breath heavy. Richie recognised he was about to have an asthma attack, so when he took out his inhaler and put it to his mouth, Eddie paused... 

It was fine. Everything was fine. 

Richie stood and pulled him into a hug, still sobbing, and Eddie hugged him back. “You okay, Rich?” He asked. 

“Yeah...” He whispered. 

Everything was fine. They were both alive. The body behind him wasn’t real. This was. The hug, the touch, the soft breath against his shoulder and the hand on his back. The other in a sling pressed against his chest. 

And then, he realised, this wasn’t real. This was It. Pennywise. And fear daunted him, and Pennywise could smell it, and drool puddled his shoulder from Eddie’s mouth. 

Any other circumstance, Richie might have liked Eddie’s saliva over his body, but not like this. 

He shoved him away, and he was engulfed into darkness with one final crazed cackle from the deranged monster. 

Once he opened his eyes, he was in an abyss. Everything was black. The floor, the ceiling, the walls. Or was it not- did this place really have any substance at all? He felt like he was floating. He was. 

Looking around hurriedly, he yelled Eddie’s name repeatedly, holding back tears that threatened to fall. 

A light- a white light in the corner, Richie began to sprint, as quick as his legs could take him in this strange environment. Once he reached the light, he saw a projector was casting it, and it showed him and Eddie, on their bikes. 

Richie stared at it with brows that were beginning to raise, and he realised this was when they biked to get ice cream and play at the arcade. 

Fuck, that was such a good day. 

Richie hadn’t laughed so much in so long. 

Another projector flicked on another few metres away, and Richie followed. It was Eddie, looking angry, and Richie taunting him, and the video played, and quietly he could hear himself talking about how he was going to fuck Eddie’s mum. 

Richie laughed softly, and then slotted his hands into his trousers. 

Another projector. 

Another memory. 

Them, their hands brushing 

Them, their eyes meeting. 

Them, their legs entangled.

Them, together. 

Happiness. 

Another projector turned on and at this point Richie felt calmed, and he walked over. This time, there was a single wooden chair, so he sat on it. 

The thing began to play. 

Richie was holding a camera that had horrible quality, and was filming Eddie, who was trying to show him a trick on his bike. Once Eddie had noticed he was filming, he went a little red and started to yell at him, saying things like, “stop! My mom will find out I’m here with you guys.”

This caused Richie to snicker in the video and lightly shove Eddie. “Brighten up, Ed. I just wanted to record this lovely little moment you really wanted to fucking show me.”

With that, Eddie was determined to show him he could do it, and after five minutes of Richie wheezing with laughter, he finally did it. Eddie came to the camera with a winning smile and gloated mercilessly, and Richie, on the wooden chair, began to chuckle. 

The projector turned off. 

Everything was silent. 

Richie began to realise again that this was one of Pennywise’s games, and he began to get inpatient. What was going on? Why wasn’t he dead already? 

“Hello?” He asked, but not even an echo greeted him back. 

After what seemed like hours, the projector came back on. It was Eddie again, but this time, he was shirtless, and tied to a ceiling, and on his chest, carved onto it was, IT WAS YOUR FAULT. 

It began to play, and Richie already began to feel sick. He vomited to the floor and Eddie was screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and fuck he was so loud. 

Richie looked to the video, and Pennywise was staring at him through the projector, and the knife he used to carve the words came to Eddie’s neck. 

“No! No! No! No!” Richie was yelling, but nothing mattered. 

The knife moved. 

Blood. 

Eddie’s last scream. 

Silence. 

Sitting up, he awoke to calls of his name, and he felt confusion sizzle over him. What the fuck just happened?

He turned over and groaned, and as he became more aware, he realised Eddie was the one calling his name. 

“Richie? Hey, are you okay?” He was asking, lightly tapping his face. 

He was at Eddie’s house. In his room. 

“What...”

Oh, right. 

“You were having a nightmare.”

How fucking predictable. 

Richie held him close, “please... just, stay with me...?”


End file.
